


Can't Fight the Moonlight

by RavenAurelieChoiseau



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood and Injury, Forced Masturbation, Forced Orgasm, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Porn, Rape Fantasy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sexual Violence, Shameless Smut, Sleep Groping, Sleep Sex, Sleeptalking, Smut, Violence, forced oral penetration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-05-28 23:07:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15059819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenAurelieChoiseau/pseuds/RavenAurelieChoiseau
Summary: Stiles has a rape fantasy, he's just not sure when Derek will make it happen. He leaves him a note telling him he'll leave a key under the mat.Unfortunately, Peter finds the note instead and rapes Stiles in his sleep.





	1. The Note

**Author's Note:**

> Triggers for a rape/non-con scenario so if this is a sensitive subject for you please heed the warning and do not read.  
> This gets fairly graphic.

The sliver of moonlight teasing the wall is enough illumination for the wolf to study the silhouette under the sheet. Not that he needs it, he can see fine in the dark. But it’s nice to pretend to be human once in a while.  
The pull of the full moon is starting to have its effect, and even though he has no issues with control, tonight would be a good night to release some of this extra sexual tension by fulfilling the desire he's been harboring for a while.   
It was kind of Stiles to leave the door open.   
  
The boy has been mumbling for a while now, some words clear and others gibberish. He lays face down on the large bed, right cheek resting against the fluffy pillow. His face is flushed, a rosy sex blush to his skin.  
Stiles’ heartbeat is rapid, eyes darting under his eyelids. He’s obviously dreaming, and from the soft moans rumbling in his chest and the hardness pressed into the mattress below him, it’s erotic in nature.  
Knowing the brunette, not even a tornado siren could wake him right now.  
The boy’s fingers curl, hands outstretched at either side of his head, left grasped into the corner like a child fisting a blanket. The wolf’s tempted to reach out and caress it.

The only sounds in the room are Stiles’ labored breaths and their combined heartbeats thrumming in the man’s head.  
The wolf has positioned himself in a chair facing the head of the bed. Stiles’ arousal permeates the air, leaving the man with a yearning, rigid member of his own.  
His lustful gaze is fickle. What to do? Mentally trace the boy’s smooth, pink lips? But then his little moles demand attention. How many are there? Perhaps the wolf should count them.  
  
No, something more enticing beckons him. Much more luring.  
“Mmm, Derek yes” murmurs the boy. The wolf grins.  
  
Stiles sleeps naked, one muscular leg sticking out and hanging over the edge of the bed. The skin of the muscled thigh is tanned, unmarred, and inviting.  
The lupine eyes climb up his body, to the perfectly sculpted buttock above it, finishing on the groove partially unveiled by the shifting linen.  
  
More blood rushes to the man’s dick, and it twitches achingly as he fixates on the shadow between the perfect cheeks. Just a hint of the boy’s scrotum shows below.  
The dark-haired man palms his erection, inhaling sharply. Deciding last minute to reach for the edge of the cover, two fingers pull. The fabric whispers as it drops to the floor.  
  
Stiles’ statuesque figure is left on display, his legs spread in such an inviting pose that the wolf nearly gives himself away with a resonant growl.  
He halts, immobile, but Stiles doesn’t stir.  Only his eyes continue to move, the rest of him still paralyzed in REM sleep.  
  
The werewolf bites wantonly into his lower lip, the devious idea in his mind pushing out his inhibitions.  
  
First, he removes his shirt, the six-pack tight under the creamy skin of his stomach. After folding the top over the chair, he stands.   
His breath hitches at the anticipation, undoing his jeans in such a rush that the zipper catches on the bulge as they come off. It’s so deliciously painful on his stretched boxers that he hisses in delight.  
One more article of clothing flops to the ground, kicked out of the way as soon as they make contact with the floor.  
  
The wolf’s scalding skin is cooled by the night air and he just enjoys it a moment. But soon the pulsating in his groin reminds him what he’s come here to do.  
  
The mattress dips as he clambers over the slumbering boy, turgid cock bobbing into his belly. The wolf’s full mouth purses, hot breath near Stiles’ ear.  
“Shh, baby. Shh. You keep dreaming. I’m going to make you feel good.”  
Stiles’ lips curl in delight, and he smacks his lips.  
“Mmm, yes, good… yes.”  
  
The man slinks down, his muscular arms braced at Stiles’ sides. His long tongue flicks on the boy’s neck until it flattens out, sweeping along the fissure of Stiles’ wide back in long, lazy strokes.  
When he reaches the top of the brunette’s cleft, he hesitates a moment before finding his conviction. Impatient fingers spread the boy as if opening the door to a special treasure.   
  
The wolf allows another growl to escape his lips, lower now, before poising himself at Stiles' puckered muscle. It’s begging to be violated.  
  
First the wolf licks around it, using an index finger to spread the saliva better. It’s ribbed to the touch and tight when he breaks its barrier. A second finger stretches until he introduces a third and scissors.  
The musky scent filling the man’s nostrils tempts him to go further. He lunges into the gap he’s created, the tip of his tongue rolled to fuck Stiles’ hole perfectly.  
He buries his face into the intimate space, hands kneading into the unyielding flesh of Stiles’ ass in order to pull him near.  
The dark-haired head see-saws over the crack, up and down, in and out. He savors the boy’s sweetness against his taste buds.  
  
Fuck, the wolf’s cock is smarting now.  
“Ugh…mmm….good Der, so good,” Stiles whimpers. The wolf stops, getting too close to breaking.  
“So beautiful, baby,” the dark-haired man sighs, face wet with the boy as he pants against Stiles’ lower back.  
  
Rubbing his engorged dick from base to tip vigorously, he wonders if he should explode all over the boy’s hole. But then he tugs harder, and the foreskin retracts and extends, covering the head when he tugs up. His light eyes sparkle from desire.  
The wolf has done this much. What’s the harm in progressing a bit more?  
“Stiles,” he sibilates. No reaction. The brunette is still dead to the world.  
  
His palms raise Stile’s adorable behind just enough for him to reach around the boy’s slim waist and grip his long cock. The wolf’s fingertips stain with the pre-cum oozing from the pronounced tip.  
“Der-mmm good,” Stiles laments.    
  
An unholy rosary of spit drips onto the brunette’s asshole. The wolf aims, pushes his cock in. There's a little bit of resistance but soon he's penetrated.     
Despite his thick girth, Stiles' sphincter clenches in response, his muscle almost sucking in the member with fervent contractions.  
Once the wolf is balls deep, Stiles draws in a satisfied breath from within his reverie.  
“Mmm, tight, stiley myrff, ghorl.”  
  
The werewolf’s not paying attention to the nonsense that Stiles’ is expressing. He’s too busy rolling his hips as his eyes fall into the back of his head. The heat and the tightness is almost too much to bear.  
His right hand digs into Stiles’ hip for leverage, flat on the v-line, while his other lovingly tugs on the boy’s cock.  
  
The movements are excruciatingly slow and deep because the man doesn’t want to rip Stiles from his trance. Every thrust is deliberate and calculated, pushing the physical limits of the boy’s depths.  
It’s too slow for there to be a slapping sound, but Stiles’ ass is so slick with secretions that every time the wolf disappears into him, pounding his prostate, their bodies seem to slurp each other’s juices.  
  
The tops of the wolf’s powerful thighs graze the back of the boy’s. When he bottoms out with more insistence, Stiles groans. The wolf, blinded by lust, grows bolder.  
“Mmm….” Stiles keeps moaning. It’s driving the man crazy, all he’d want to do is split this human in two, but he can’t. He’s at the limit of how far he can push things.  
  
Stile’s dick jerks from within the wolf’s paw, and the boy goes limp with the cutest squeal escaping his mouth. As he squirts the salty jizz all over his taut belly, light flinching of minor muscles commences. The boy is waking up.  
The wolf risks it all, impossibly close to cumming now. He rams into the boy, using his cum-covered hand to exert one final upward and urgent thrust as he drags his nails into Stiles’ flesh.  
  
The boy wakes to scratches as he’s being impaled, in that instance hot werewolf semen paints his walls repeatedly.  
Stiles’ cavity closes on the twitching cock.  
“Fuck my life,” the wolf roars, not caring if he rouses him.

The brunette is sleepy and confused, bed hair standing on end and grogginess blinding him.  
“Der, Der…I had the weirdest dream. Der?!”  
He perceives the sensation of being very wet and full. Stiles is still in a dream haze, unsure if his realization is real. One hand touches his belly lightly, fingertips sticking to the fresh cum.  
Did Derek finally get the nerve to sneak in and fuck him in his sleep?  
"Der?"  
“Yeah?” a deep voice answers.  
“Der, did we have sex while I slept? Cuz I can feel your cum in me. It feels really nice,” he says sluggishly. "I guess you found my note?"  
  
Stiles props himself up and half-turns, squinting. His eyes are still trying to adjust to the semi-darkness.  
A shadowed figure is curled up behind him, dark-haired and extremely muscular. His back rises and falls from exertion. His hands fumble with what Stiles thinks might be a pair of jeans. It's difficult to make out.   
  
“Derek, you okay?” he asks, not used to the Alpha acting so aloof.  
“I’m perfect,” the voice replies, more clearly now.  
The boy stiffens. Something in Stiles sets off the panic button. The human’s heart skips a beat as his trembling hand reaches for the lamp.  
Before he can flip the switch, the wolf inches forward, exposed by the moonlight.  
  
“Morning, sleeping beauty,” says a grinning Peter Hale. He holds a piece of paper between his cum-caked fingertips. "Is this the note?" 


	2. Please Forgive Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek finds Peter at Stiles' and learns what has happened. He is not pleased. At all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh...we're gonna hate Derek here. This turns into a hot mess. But the story just wrote itself this way. I hate my brain. So, just because there wasn't enough, there's more rape in this chapter, too. Read at your own peril.  
> I'm going to watch an hour of kitten videos on Youtube to wash away the pain. :(

“Wha-what did you do to me? Oh my God. Oh my God.”  
Stiles scrambles up the soiled, disheveled bed, sweaty back pressed against the headboard. He’s got two trembling hands twisted into his chestnut hair.   
Peter Hale reaches out, lightly fingering his knee. Stiles swats his hand away as if it were an annoying insect.   
  
“Don’t touch me. Oh my God, you raped me! Peter, why did you rape me?!”  
The wolf grins, almost amused. “Listen, sunshine. I only did what you asked. Calm down.” He waves the note in the air. “And stop acting so offended. You loved it. Came so hard into your sheets I thought your ass would never unclench from my cock.”  
Stiles is pale and clammy, mumbling frantically under his breath “No, no, no… Derek is going to kill us. No. This can’t be happening.”   
Suddenly aware of his nakedness, he reaches for a pillow and positions it over his lap.   
Peter belly laughs. “Oh, you’re endearing. I think we’re past modesty, Stiles.”  
  
Stiles is on the verge of a panic attack. The blood in his temples thumps like a bass drum, his trachea shrinking in on itself.   
“That note was meant for Derek, not for you. You–you had no right. You… would never want you to,” he pants.   
  
Peter stretches, the jeans hanging limp from one hand. He’s still completely naked, the light reflecting from the window creating a strange backdrop against his perfect body.   
“Right, shmight. I fucked you in your sleep, you liked it, I got off and I even had the care to make sure you did. You’re an incredible lay, by the way. Even when you're non-consenting. Can't imagine when you're active. Such a glorious asshole. Derek’s lucky.”  
“That’s right. Derek. Why would you want to have sex with me if you know I’m his? Who does that?!”  
Peter shrugs.“I don’t believe in the idea of ownership. We’re all free. And you’re adorable. I also make it a point to fuck with my nephew whenever possible. Let’s not make a big deal about this, sweety. You fulfilled your rape fantasy. Derek doesn’t have to know about it, and if he gathers up the courage to do it himself, you can cross this off your bucket list  _twice._ ”

Stiles’ quivering hand travels to his bottom, his cleft sticky with Peter’s cum. “Oh Jesus, you came inside me. Oh god.” He tenses, anticipating pain, but he feels fairly normal. No more than the usual dull throb after intercourse.    
“It doesn’t hurt. Why doesn’t it hurt if you raped me?” Two fingertips rub into the sticky secretion as he examines in it in horror.   
“I don’t understand, did you want it to? It doesn’t hurt because I prepped you and I was gentle, sleeping beauty. I’m not an animal. Well, I am an animal but in your case, sexing you was like eating a freshly baked apple pie. Who would want to rush through that sweetness? If I’d had some ice cream handy, I would have filled your asshole with it and then eaten you out all over again.”   
“I hate you,” Stiles hisses, the anxiety constricting in his lungs.   
“Oh, little one. You wouldn’t if you remembered any of it. Trust me, I’m fucking amazing in bed. Oh, by the way, I meant that about rimming you. It’s a shame you were asleep for that, I’m told my tongue is pure bliss. I’ve got references.”   
Peter winks, reaching for the shirt that he previously hung over the chair. “And relax, we don’t carry disease. You won’t catch anything. One of the perks of fucking a werewolf… carefree bareback for life.”  
  
“I… I…” Stiles can’t finish a thought. His mind is a frantic mess of inner dialogue:   
“It’s your fault for leaving the note where it could be seen, you could have just texted Derek.”   
“You liked it. You’re a pervert.”  
“Look at the sheets, look how hard your boyfriend’s uncle made you cum.”   
“Can you still feel him inside you? Hot and thick in your ass while he worked your cock?”  
  
Stiles resembles a fish, struggling to breath while his pillow lips open and close. “What’s wrong with you?! You don’t find this remotely CRIMINAL?!”  
Peter sighs as he pulls the shirt over his head, abs flexing. “What kind of buyer’s remorse is this? Sweetheart, you wrote a note asking to be raped and left the door accessible. Do you care who did the raping? Wasn’t the invasion the point of all this? Plus, I’m family. It’s not like a total stranger walked in and did it. Stop blaming me and yourself. It’s just sex.”  
  
Stiles guffaws, looking around for something to put on himself. “I don’t think saying you’re family actually makes this any better. You’re horrible.”  
  
The door opens a moment later and Derek Hale has his paws drawn around Peter’s throat before Stiles can even register it. Blind with rage, his eyes are flaming red as he growls directly in his uncle’s face.   
“Oh my god,” Stiles screams as the Alpha shoves Peter into the wall, holding him up with a tight grip on his Adam’s apple.   
“Stiles, stay right there!” Derek fumes through his fangs.   
Nostrils flared, chest heaving in fury, he spits. “What the fuck did you do, Peter? How DARE you touch my mate!”  
Peter gasps as he begs for air. “Derek… Derek… I can explain,” he rasps. He points shakily to his throat. “Can’t… breathe.”  
The wolf eases the pressure, and he drops to his knees, coughing.   
“I don’t need your explanation, Peter. I heard everything. I need you to disappear or I am going to rip you in two.”  
“And you- “ Derek glares at Stiles. “What the hell were you thinking?! How can you want me to do that to you? You need help.”  
Stiles leans over, slim legs half off the bed. “Wait, what?! You’re mad AT ME?”  
  
Derek has morphed back into a human face, only his gaze still werewolf. He grabs Peter by the back of his thick neck, dragging him to the foot of the bed.   
“Derek, Derek STOP,” he cries. His dick flops against his inner thigh, his lower half bare.  
“Would you let me explain?!”  
Derek’s entire body is electric. His nails pierce into Peter’s skin the more nervous he gets. A trail of blood flows down his shoulder from the wound the Alpha’s dug.   
“Jesus you reek of each other,” Derek spits. “Makes me sick. If you hadn’t had this insane idea, Stiles, my uncle wouldn’t have helped himself to you. And now what? How am I supposed to touch you with his scent all over you? Why would you choose to do this?!” The gravel in Derek's voice lowers it by an octave, making it vibrate in his massive chest.   
  
The brunette’s anger pushes to the surface and despite feeling violated he finds himself saying the impossible.   
“How dare you! I just wanted to try something different. It’s not like I asked you to do God knows what. I’m allowed to have fantasies, Derek. You’re the one who’s always hesitant to do things. I meant the note for you and not Peter, but at least he acted on an urge. He’s more in tune with his sexuality than you’ll ever be!”

Peter looks up at Stiles, totally astonished. “Well that was unexpected,” he mumbles.   
Derek pulls him to his feet and throws him on the bed next to his lover. The uncle starts to giggle nervously.    
“There’s that Hale rage! Maybe you should save some for your boy here. From what I understand he likes it rough and you’re not delivering.”  
The Alpha roars, making the parapets shake.   
“Peter, you say one more word and I’ll rip your vocal chords out through your nose!”  
  
Stiles stands, face to face with his lover. Jaw tense, palms sweating, he’d never win in a physical altercation, but right now his instinct is to punch his boyfriend in the face.  
“He’s right, Derek. You’re always afraid of breaking me or something. I’m not made of glass. When I ask for it rough, I want it  _rough._  I don’t understand why that’s difficult for you to grasp. All you do is think of me as some stupid human. I’m your mate and I deserve recognition.”

Derek shakes his head, incredulous.  
“So you like how Peter fucks you, huh? He’s in tune with his sexuality?!” The wolf’s blood is boiling over.  
Stiles sighs, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. “I never said I liked it, but at least he followed through and he wasn’t even asked to do it!”  
Peter wants to say something but he’ll probably get his throat slashed (again), so he seals his lips, waiting to see how this plays out. It's not looking good.  
Stiles has a way of pushing the wrong buttons, and now he's got Derek raging. He doesn’t even have time to flinch as he lunges, grabbing the brunette by the shoulders. He spins him into the bed face down.   
“Derek, what’re you-“ Stiles’ shrill voice rings through the silence of the night.  
Peter clambers back, blue eyes aflame. “Derek what are you doing to him?!”

The Alpha shoots him a dagger. “I’m giving him what he wants. He wants to be raped, I’m going to rape him. And since he loved it so much you’re going to do it again, Peter. This way he’ll get the FULL experience.” Derek throttles Stiles, the boy whimpering.   
He’s coming to terms with what’s happening and tries to squirm out from beneath Derek’s weight. Stiles’ skinny arms strain but there’s no escaping the wolf’s deadly strength.   
“Derek oh my god, no! Not like this… I didn’t mean like this. And I don’t want to fuck Peter! Stop!” his voice muffled by the pillow in his face.   
The Alpha leans down and breathes “Rape is rape, Stiles. You don’t get a say. And you won’t be fucking Peter, he’s going to fuck your face while I do you from behind. Now shut the fuck up, you little slut.”  
Stiles doesn’t recognize who this person is. Even the tone of his voice has changed. The full moon and the fury have completely inebriated him, made him shift into a literal monster.   
  
Peter waves his hand in protest. “Stop it, you’re hurting him! You’ve made your point, Derek!”  
Tears well and break on Stiles’ lower lids. “Derek, please…” he whispers, going limp in resignation.   
The wolf is delirious. His vision picks up only heat, his senses ablaze with the musky, damp scent of the two lovers’ sexes. The fear slowly accumulating in the room is so thick he can taste it, but instead of triggering guilt it’s only making him insanely thirsty for more.   
Derek pushes one palm into the center of Stiles’ back, warning him, “If you move, Stiles, I’ll kill you. I suggest you stay still and take it," he spits.  
Stiles’ thighs twitch in anticipation of the worst, his golden skin prickled.  
  
Derek’s other hand undoes his belt and zipper, pushing down his underwear enough to pull out his engorged cock. He’s got an anger boner, the tip almost as red as his eyes. This sudden rush of adrenaline excites him further, the vein visibly pulsing along his length.   
“Peter, get in front of him, hold up his head. Stick your dick in his mouth and fuck it.”  
Peter doesn’t move an inch, unsure of how to proceed. He likes the boy, and this is going a bit too far. He’s afraid his nephew will really cause him harm.   
Stiles is crying, face flush, eyes puffy from desperation. “Derek, please stop. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”  
“That’s it, beg for it,” he snarls. “It’s too late for regret, slut. PETER! I told you to fuck his face. Do it or I’m going to snap your neck. And you know I can. Come on, show me that famous sexuality you’re always bragging about.”  
  
Peter doesn’t see an out. He could attempt to attack Derek and fight, but that would end very bloody and probably not in his victory. His nephew is the equivalent of a guy on roids right now. And there’s certainly no reasoning with him in this state. His heart sinks. Stiles is a good kid and doesn’t deserve this.   
The least Peter can do is try to be gentle on his end. He ponders how he honestly never meant for this to happen.   
  
Derek doesn’t even warn Stiles. Deranged out of his mind, he's not aware of his actions. He places his cock on the hole and with a roll of his hips penetrates completely in one upward jab. The only lube is whatever cum is drying from the previous encounter, which isn’t much, so the pull on his shaft is incredible.   
“Ugh,” grunts Derek, “so fucking tight.” The brunette is hyperventilating against the sheets and can’t stop shaking.   
"Derek stop oh god please it hurts," he hiccups.  
The wolf is deaf to his pleading. He thrusts once, twice, over and over. Each time's deeper and harder and Derek falls further into the abyss. All his focus is on the heat enveloping his shaft. The cavity is slick and tight and it’s all he can do to not literally rip Stiles to shreds.  
Peter cringes for the brunette, whose body rocks back and forth with the onslaught.   
“Do you like this, Stiles?”  _Thrust._ “Is this what you wanted, slut?! You wanted it ROUGH!”  _Double thrust._  
  
Stiles is shutting down, he merely whimpers when his body is violated, most of what he perceives is the equivalent of being sodomized with an ice pick.   
Derek seems possessed, crimson eyes lost in something no one else can see.   
"Stop it, Derek, can’t you see it’s too much!" Peter shouts uselessly as he takes a step forward.  
“Peter, take another step and I’ll kill you. Fuck him or else!” The Alpha commands, waking from his trance.   
  
Stiles’ mouth is slack, the brunette a catatonic shell with glazed-over cinnamon eyes.    
  
Peter approaches the edge of the bed, feeling ill. He's erect, but only for the pheromones and aggression he's picking up in the air. He finds this situation deplorable. What Derek is doing is disgusting, he at least tried to respect Stiles’ person. 

Peter Hale hesitates, but knows that if he doesn’t obey Derek might take it out on Stiles. Reluctantly, he sticks four fingers into the boy’s moist cavity and hinges it open. Peter inserts his dick but doesn’t expect anything to happen. He’d actually rather nothing did.   
Leaning in, he whispers to the boy “Stiles, just lick it. Hold it in your mouth. You don’t have to do anything. Get through this, you’re strong. It’ll be over soon. Derek doesn’t know what he’s doing, I’m so sorry.”  
Stiles is dead inside. He regrets ever having this idea. And how the fuck did the tables turn like this? Why is his boyfriend the one crashing into him when the actual rapist is now showing him kindness?   
  
Nothing matters anymore, Stiles decides. His lips close around Peter’s cock, papery tongue lapping lazily at the head. His pre-cum is rather pleasant, and the natural instinct to suck on it takes over.   
Peter bucks in response and hates himself for it. “Stiles, fuck, feels so good.” he whispers. “Baby, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Just hold it there.”   
Stiles doesn't mind and continues, wrapping a mucky hand around his base. He stares up at Peter, his gaze saying, “It’s okay, I’d rather focus on this now than what he’s doing to me.”  
  
Behind the boy, whose dripping body shifts as it's impaled, Derek Hale is no longer mentally present. He’s gone in some kind of rapture, his sex a weapon tearing apart Stiles’ insides.   
Blood stains his backside from the claw marks, joining the bright red drops spotting from Stile's anus thanks to the fierceness of the attack.    
The soundtrack to this nightmare is Derek's growls and Peter's low groans. The boy is numb, silent.   
Peter Hale caresses his head, watching him passively suck on his cock. The attention is actually leading him to orgasm even though he’d rather die than cum in the boy's mouth right now.   
The sheets shade pink beneath Stiles, and the laments of the wolf grow more frequent.   
“Ugh yes, fuck,” he breathes, not aware that Stiles is losing blood. “Such a tight hole, slut… so close,” he says from behind gritted teeth.  
  
Stiles' walls bruise and tear, the Alpha’s cock bigger and more insisting than it’s ever been. The pain has become something like a blanket, and he just gives in and patiently waits under it for this horror to pass.   
Peter has clasped his hand over Stiles’, wishing he could do more but at least he can take away some of the pain.  
Stiles’ face relaxes a bit with relief, and Peter keeps his hand in place. The boy continues licking his member like a lolipop, focusing most of the suction at the tip. Peter's close, he can’t help it, and when the brunette hollows out his cheeks, inhaling his dick one last time, his body shakes in orgasm. It is less intense than before, also because this time it’s just a physical reaction to stimulus. He couldn't actually be more turned off.  
Stiles swallows, dipping into the mattress once Peter slips out.  “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. Forgive me, Stiles,” he kisses his cheek. “So sorry.”

Spittle and cum coat Stiles' chin, his cheek to the corner of the pillow. Tears flow freely from his unblinking eyes.   
Peter stands with fists at his sides, head tilted. He's furious but is too afraid to react. He's waiting for Derek to cum so this can finally be over and maybe then, when Stiles is safe, he can have it out with the Alpha.  
What a hot fucking mess.   
It's almost a blessing that moments later there's a howl, and Derek explodes within Stiles' broken body.   
Like a quake in his being, he doesn’t understand his sudden need to mangle something but there's a fog of that familiar, coppery scent around him, calling to his killer nature.   
  
Peter circles the bed, ready for a fight, and it’s then that he notices how much blood there is.  
“Oh Jesus, he’s bleeding out!” He pushes Derek off Stiles with the force of two arms, punching him across the jaw once he’s far enough away.  
  
The Alpha twitches, coming to his senses. He snarls at Peter, but the smell of blood and cum has permeated the room and Derek realizes at least one of the two shouldn’t be part of the equation.  
“DEREK LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE!” he screams, pointing at the bed.  
Stiles is immobile, legs spread above an enormous stain on the sheets. He bleeds from his rectum and the back looks like someone whipped him with barbed wire.  
  
“Oh my God, what have I done?!” he whispers, examining his bloodied hands and crotch with shocked eyes.  
Peter is already at Stiles’ side, wrapping him in the top sheet.  
“It’s going to be okay, Stiles. I’ll get you help.” He smoothes out Stiles’ damp hair, and while the boy doesn’t answer, he does let himself go.  
Before picking him up, Peter throws his jeans and shoes back on.  
  
“You lost your fucking mind and raped your mate, Derek. That’s what you did. And I was too much of a coward to stop you so this is just as much my fault. I’m taking him to the hospital, if you’ve got any conscience left, clean yourself up and meet us there.”  
“But I didn’t mean, I don’t know what happened –“ the Alpha stammers.  
  
Peter passes him by, his own fangs bared. Stiles is like a swaddled infant in his strapping arms.  
“Derek, how about we schedule your coming-of-guilt for another time? Get to the fucking hospital. I'm going to tell Melissa I found him like this, because to explain what happened here tonight is quite frankly obscene. And if you’ve really damaged this poor kid as much I fear, I’m going to do everything in my power to ruin you.”  
  
Derek is speechless, devastated. He can't believe he was capable of hurting his Stiles. His gaze falls on the boy's desk. A picture of him and Stiles laughing mocks him. He swallows hard as he fingers the frame.   
"Please forgive me," Derek begs the darkness. "Dear God what have I done?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is. Ugh.

**Author's Note:**

> I dreamt this and it's been bugging the shit out of me all day so I had to exorcise my demons.  
> Chapter title is the LeAnn Rimes song of the same name.


End file.
